Sadness sits in my grandfather’s throat As he refuses to let grandma go It sits in his every shaky breath after Sadness could never shake my father’s breaths So it takes up space in his eyes Every time he talks of the home he was born in Anger lives in my mother’s eyes, And nose and everywhere else So Sadness takes up her whole heart Sadness dips its toes in me And leaves playful ripples in a dry well Then a firm foot on my surface As it dances and dances It forgets it must not violate itself Sadness dips its toes in me And decides it won’t mind drowning

How are you? I? I have written 20 poems about being alone. But writing still feels like self-flagellation and torture Torture; Do you know criminals in ancient Greece were locked in metal bulls and literally heated to death? My body is the bull and my soul is challenging it everyday I live in ancient Greece By that I mean, every day there is a new tragedy But my clothes are not made of sheets And I am reading this poem on my phone Phone? I pick up my phone and text my friends “I am alone” They say “What?” “I don't know. I am alone.” They say, “Oh come on, there are bigger problems now than being alone” The Oxford English Dictionary defines alone as “having no one else present.” But are you truly alone if there are 65 people on your class’s zoom call? Laptop screens and bad dreams merge so well, You never know if your wet eyes are the product of grief or blue light screen exposure. Know. Know. I don’t know. It’s like, it’s like, it’s like I…. The Oxford English Dictionary defines alone as “having no one else present.” No one So I scream and scream and scream And it's so magical because no one can hear me. I loop a coil of infinity around my throat Do you know that an infinity looks like an 8 that had fallen down and could not get up And just wants it to be over……. Wait! What was the question again? How are you? How am I? I? I have written 21 poems about being alone.